Loves Me Not
by Chemiclord
Summary: Vayne gets a Valentine's "gift" that only a blind man could appreciate, and that harkens memories about other horrible costumes champions of the League of Legends had been forced to endure in the name of exposure and popularity.
1. Loves Me Not

**LOVES ME NOT**

"No."

Shauna Vayne's gutteral growl was only partially muffled by the door separating the bathroom from the rest of the champion's hall, but it was still more than loud enough to carry through the rest of the women's side.

"You can't stay in there forever." Sivir noted logically.

"Watch me."

It was odd to have the normally taciturn Night Hunter behaving in such a sullen, childish manner. Clearly, Caitlyn had missed something in her late arrival to the Fields of Justice today. She poked the nearest girl on the shoulder, who happened to be Ashe, and asked, "What's going on?"

The Frost Queen of the Freljord turned her head, her expression grim. "Vayne got ambushed by Laitwell as she entered the hall this morning."

Caitlyn winced. "Oh dear."

Grand Summoner Laitwell actually did very little summoning for the Institute of War at this point in his career. Instead, he had become the Institute's unofficial official "costume designer" for the various champions; sometimes deciding that the outfits they normally wore weren't quite good enough for the popularity of the league. And heavens save you if he got his hands on your equipment.

Summoners could then insist their chosen champion wear the outfits Laitwell designed. It wasn't always received well. And by that, Caitlyn meant rarely and with some mild violence. Runes knew what Laitwell had forced Vayne into wearing.

Caitlyn pushed her way through the small gathering of women. While the Sheriff of Piltover would have a hard time saying she was a friend of Vayne's (or that _anyone _could make that claim), she liked to think she had a professional respect of sorts for the Night Hunter, and that the feelings were reciprocated. Perhaps she could get to the bottom of this.

Once she had made it to the door, Caitlyn tapped on the door. "Vayne. It's me. What did Laitwell push on you?"

"Something that I will never wear in public, or even in private, for that matter." Vayne grumbled, although it was hard to tell considering Vayne's voice normally had a gravelly tone to it. "And that is final."

"Vayne, dear... you _do _realize that the summoners can yank you from anywhere right onto the Rift, right? Even if you're in that bathroom." Caitlyn reminded. "People are going to see what you're wearing whether you like it or not."

"Then maybe this abortion to decency will paralyze my enemies with laughter." Vayne retorted glumly. "It'll be the easiest pentakill in the history of the League of Legends."

"I'm sure it's not _that _bad." Caitlyn said, calling on all of her practiced empathy that came from years as a lawman. "Remember when Laitwell made me that obscene policewoman outfit? Summoners _still _make me wear that tawdry thing."

"This is worse." Vayne declared. "_Much _worse. At least your gun still looked like a gun after he was done modifying it."

"Vayne, At least get out of the bathroom." Caitlyn stated, her voice slightly turning stern. "If you want to hide after you're out, that's your business. But I'm sure there are some of us out here who would like to relieve themselves."

There was a silence that could have either been resignation or consternation. Fortunately the former turned out to be true, as the lock to the bathroom door clicked free and the door opened.

"Fine. Go ahead and laugh." Vayne snarled. "Get it over with. Get it out of your systems before you remember that I know where each and every one of you sleep."

Caitlyn did her damnedest not to. She really did. But there was no fighting back that one regretfully mirthful snort that escaped her throat before she could slap her hand over her mouth. Many others didn't even try to hold back, as varied tones of laughter filtered through the assembled ladies, from polite giggles to outright bawdy howls.

Laitwell had made a handful of reasonably decent and even lovely outfits for the Lunar Festival, so Caitlyn had held hope that Vayne had been exaggerating. The Night Hunter, however, was not. The outfit was _awful_. It looked like someone had dumped a box of melted candy canes into Janna's wardrobe. The normally sullen and dark Vayne was now gussied up in red hearts, pink stripes, shimmering silk, and white wings. Her shaded glasses were gone, replaced by a gaudy flared red pair that revealed Vayne's amber colored eyes.

"Oh no..." Caitlyn whimpered. "He got your crossbow too?"

"Both of them." Vayne held up her right arm, where her wrist mounted crossbow was, now ivory in color, sporting red tipped flanges and a shimmering heart right in the center. The larger crossbow on her back was also decorated with hearts and wings, along with the siege bolt arrowhead shaped into _another _large red heart.

"And he got his hand on your arrows too... oh dear..." Caitlyn moaned in sympathy when Vayne retrieved one of her smaller bolts, fletched with red feathers and also tipped with heart shaped arrowheads. "Oh no... I am so sorry." Caitlyn embraced the Night Hunter; the permitted contact demonstrating how traumatized Vayne was.

"A wonderful commemoration to Valentine's Day, he said." Vayne whimpered, her voice trembling, the poor thing overwhelmed by the humiliation she was suffering. But fortunately, the laughter from the crowd died down as many of them remembered they had suffered themselves at the hands of the nefarious (and perhaps colorblind) Grand Summoner Laitwell.

"Well... dear... if it means anything..." Caitlyn began nervously, "This actually isn't the _worst_ outfit Laitwell has made." The sheriff gestured to the crowd, pointing towards Akali. "Remember when he made Akali wear that nurse outfit into the field?"

Akali's expression went dark, almost having managed to forget that a summoner had her wear that obscene uniform just last week. "Next time Laitwell asks for me... I'm just gonna start knifin'." She grumbled bitterly.

"Or what about Nidalee's maid outfit?" Caitlyn then noted.

That caused the huntress to wince. "Twisted Fate wanted sponge bath. Wanted to hurt him. Bad. But couldn't. Was on my team."

Caitlyn snapped her fingers, and added, "And what about that leaf headdress he made for Karma? What was that supposed to be about?"

"He mumbled something about 'sun goddesses' and walked off." Karma droned. "And it wasn't just the headdress. The top was made of leaves too. For the record, people don't make bras out of leaves for a _reason_. They chafe."

"Lux, remember that 'sorceress' costume he made for you?" Poppy said with a teasing grin.

"Hey! That was pretty cute!" Lux replied defensively, then turned bright red. "At least, until I discovered the skirt was so short, and the panties so sheer, that any Yordle got an eyeful just by looking up..."

"And what an eyeful it was." Poppy joked.

"It's gotten so bad that if we don't walk into the Fields wearing next to nothing, that bastard Laitwell stiches up some barely-there costume for us." Ashe snarled. She had been spared from the worst of Laitwell's designs, although she had this sneaking dread it was only a matter of time. "The pervert has it out for us women... just waiting for the opportunity to humiliate us."

Tristana tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I dunno. He's made up some pretty shameful outfits for the guys too. Remember that 'Armor of the Fifth Age' he had crafted for Taric? What had possessed him to think _that _was a good idea?"

Caitlyn did remember, in fact. All to keenly. "I recall that rather backfired though."

* * *

"I don't understand." Taric answered. He seemed genuinely confused. "Pink is a color of power in my homeland."

Perhaps it was the complete lack of shame. Perhaps it was the very... alien... manner Taric always carried himself with. Perhaps it was his voice that always seemed a bit too even and calm. Perhaps it was the fact that he was petting a white bunny rabbit and had been calling it all manner of cutesy names like "Mister Hoppers" moments before. But all Caitlyn could process was there was something _really _off about that man.

"Sure it is." The Sheriff of Piltover remarked with snarky disbelief, turning about and making all haste towards somewhere else. That was one name that wasn't ever going to make her list. _Ever_.

* * *

Irelia found herself wanting to be a part of the conversation, her voice catching the assembly's ears. "And who remembers that 'Santa Gragas' debacle?"

No one at the party could agree on the exact details of that night, as the beer had been flowing quite liberally by the point Gragas had emerged sporting Laitwell's holiday influenced creation. But what every single person _could _agree on was what happened next...

* * *

Gragas had literally jumped onto the stage, causing the entire dais to shake from the impact of his girth. The red and white wool jacket he had been given clearly hadn't been made large enough, because the brewer's gut bulged from the bottom of the jacket and the top of his pants, jiggling like a bowl full of gelatin when he dropped down onto the ornate chair.

With a lewd grin, he released a noxious ear splitting belch, and patted his right knee. "Alright ladies, who wants to sit in Santa's lap?"

* * *

A cold chill dashed through the women in the hall, all of them cringing at the memory. Katerina, of all people, dropped to her knees and wailed, "Dark abyss, why can't I _unsee_? Why did you have to remind me?"

"Oh... and what about 'Ruthless Pantheon'?" Leona said with a roll of her eyes. "He didn't take to that one terribly well."

* * *

The Rakkor warrior didn't exactly wear excessive amounts of clothing to begin with, so no one figured it was the amount of exposed skin that bothered him. But he was quite furious, and made no attempt to hide it with his body language or tone of voice.

He pointed his spear angrily at Leona, the 'traitor' of the Rakkor, and thus not exactly high on his list of friends, and growled, "I swear upon the sun you find holy; you ask me if I have the power, and I am going to carve out a second anus for you."

* * *

"And let's not forget the decorative headpeice Laitwell made for Kog'Maw to celebrate the Lunar New Year." Poppy added. "You want to talk about ill advised... how many of the Institute's interns and assistants did Kog'Maw eat before they could even get the damn thing on? Ten? Fifteen?"

Caitlyn abruptly remembered she was supposed to be comforting Vayne, dropping an arm over the Night Hunter's shoulders. "Point is, when you think about it... these are all just the ideas that get Institute _approval_. Imagine how horrible the _rejected _ones are." After a pause, she added, "Remember that rejected costume he had designed for Volibear?"

* * *

Annie was certainly not afraid of wrong things. Annie committed no fewer than six wrong things before she finished dressing in the morning. But there was wrong... and there was _wrong_.

The Dark Child could not quite put her finger on what it was about Volibear's appearance that sent ice water down her spine, and made sweat trickle on her brow. Maybe it was the beady, soulless black eyes that never blinked. Maybe it was the hollow, never changing smile. Maybe it was the ears, unnaturally placed at the top of Volibear's head, twitching eagerly with each heaving breath from the massive ursine. Maybe it was the lack of distinguishable front paws.

Or perhaps... nay, certainly... it was the words that escaped from that wretched, unmoving mouth; words that invoked a seemingly genetic response in Annie's mind, a trigger that could have only been passed from generation to generation through the building blocks of life.

"C'mere, little girl..."

* * *

Vayne felt a single tear escape her right eye. It took a lot for her to feel empathy for another member of the League of Legends, especially one as fundamentally broken as the Dark Child. "Poor Annie. She couldn't summon Tibbers for a month without crying in fear."

Sivir heaved a heavy, forlorn sigh, and said, "Before many of you were appointed to the league, Laitwell made up this ridiculous 'Wonder Woman' outfit, as he called it, for me to wear. Damn thing looked _ridiculous_. Had all sorts of stupid accessories too. Like something he called the 'Lasso of Truth'. Wanted me to use it in addition to my crossblade. Thank heavens the Institute got him to drop _that _element to the outfit after the first trial use."

This was a story many of the ladies had not heard. Ashe however, was nodding glumly from experience. Caitlyn's investigator honed curiosity had to know. "Why? What was so bad about it?"

The league veteran leveled a steely glare in Caitlyn's direction, and said, "While it was nice to have a binding weapon, it turns out there are some truths no one should ever know."

* * *

The frantic activity that was normal for Summoner's Rift had abruptly stopped. Master Yi, in fact was frozen mid-strike, his target Jax no longer concerned at the blade hovering over his head. Ryze looked physically ill. Tryndamere _was _physically ill, using a nearby bush in the middle lane to evacuate the contents of his stomach. Even Warwick, the mind behind potentially hundreds of death dealing concoctions, had turned an unhealthy shade of green.

The chaotic team fight that had commanded that path through the rift just seconds ago was already forgotten, all attention focused on Sivir and Twitch, the latter wrapped at the legs by the former's rope, and a frustrated question aired over the heat of battle that had brought about a disturbingly honest answer.

"Hey!" The sewer rat bellowed in embarrassed rage, "How I go about getting my poison is no one's business but mine! Don't judge me!"

* * *

Lux squealed in disgust, and began retching violently, "Gross! He hit me with that stuff about a hundred times in a dominion match yesterday!" She wedged her way out of the group, muttering, "Now I have to bathe for a year. Excuse me."

Lux dashed into the bathroom, slammed the door shut, and locked it behind her, the sounds of running water and weeping making it through the door. Caitlyn slapped her forhead and groaned, "Oh, for heaven's sake..."

"Not all of the Laitwell's designs are bad." Janna interjected over the still traumatized group. "I've heard a rumor about one he's planning for Garen. Let's just say it amounts to small scraps of leather and leaving very little to the imagination."

Caitlyn's eyebrows raised as her mind processed the possibilities. _That _was a name on her list. Oh, was it a name on her list. "Hmmm... that might call for me to break out the fuzzy cuffs."

Vayne's eyes narrowed into the dark, judging expression she was infamous for. "You actually _have _fuzzy cuffs."

"Of course."

The Night Hunter crossed her arms and scoffed. "That respect I had for you? Gone."

Caitlyn shot back with a wry smile, and Vayne followed with a thin lipped grin of her own, awkward if only from lack of practice. The Night Hunter followed with a forlorn sigh, "But, I suppose you're right. It's not like Laitwell is specifically picking on me... I guess it was just my turn."

"And think of it this way... that thing is so horrible that not even those freaks for summoners are going to want to see you in it more than once." Caitlyn added. "Not at all like my officer costume." The sheriff let that thought die off with an irritated growl.

"So, I'm 'one of the girls' now, am I?"

Caitlyn shrugged, "For better or for worse."

"I can hardly contain my jubilation." Somehow, Vayne's deadpan delivery did not support her claim. She then whipped her head towards the window, tumbled forward, and fired one shot from her massive crossbow through the open window. A howl of pain followed, and the thunk of the body impacting with a nearby tree.

"Well, at least the aim on that thing is still good." Caitlyn noted with a whistle. "I had no idea how to adjust the sight on that contraption Laitwell gave me for the longest time." Taking a deep breath, Caitlyn prepared what was most likely a lie, "It can't really get any worse, right? How many terrible ideas could Laitwell have?"

* * *

"Riven, babe, good to see ya!"

Grand Summoner Laitwell talked like he was in his twenties, and looked like he was in his sixties. A full length beard of scraggly white hair covered his neck, which Riven suspected had only gotten there because it had migrated from the top of his head. What little remained up there had been applied to the most unappealing attempt at a comb-over the Noxian exile had ever seen.

Laitwell's assistant was a much younger man, most likely an apprentice summoner, his evident lack of interest as he leaned back in his chair telling Riven that the man was not receiving the mentoring he had been expecting. She rather felt bad for him.

"I want it to be known that I am only here because you reminded me I am contractually obligated to speak with you or any other Grand Summoner within the Institute." Riven stated. She wanted it as a matter of record that this meeting was not made of her own free will.

She might as well have not said anything, from Laitwell's response. "Good to hear it, girl! Anyway, I'm sure you've been thinking that I haven't done anything for you lately."

"No, I haven't." Riven answered darkly. She liked her clothes. She didn't like changing them, even if Laitwell's designs for her had not been nearly as bad as he had subjected others to.

Again, the exile might as well have not wasted her breath. "Well, don't worry, babe, I've been thinking about you."

"Call me 'babe' again, and I'm taking your testicles for a trophy."

Laitwell turned his back to Riven, towards a red velvet covered easel. Riven caught the eye of Laitwell's apprentice, and could see the remorse in his eyes, as well as a mouthed, "I am so sorry."

Meanwhile, the Grand Summoner had grabbed the top of the velvet cover. "I want to give you the first look at my new idea for you. Tell me what you think about..."

With that, he whipped off the velvet in a broad flourish...

"Cheerleader Riven!"

Laitwell's assistant dropped his head into his left hand, rubbed his temple, stood up, and left for the adjoining room in the suite. Riven meanwhile, blinked three times before her right eye started twitching.

Then came the screams.

Riven stormed out after four minutes and roughly thirty thousand gold worth of damage to Grand Summoner Laitwell and his property. The summoner stumbled out to the doorway, leaning against the frame, his beard even more disheveled, missing one sleeve to his robes, as well as carrying the faint smell of burning. Smoke billowed from the now open doorway as Laitwell called out cheerily, "So, is that a maybe?"

But as Riven disappeared further down the hall, even Laitwell could sense it was a lost cause. "I_ knew _I should have proposed that to Ashe..." He mumbled. "Oh well, need to make a new prototype anyway."


	2. Vengeance Comes with a Cottontail

**Vegeance Comes with a Cottontail**

"No."

"No, no, no. This is unacceptable."

Caitlyn did not like the sound of that. She knew that Grand Summoner Laitwell had been here recently, and that poor Riven had apparently been on his mind for the last month. To hear the Noxian exile's distressed voice starting to drift towards anger could only be an ill omen.

The sane and logical among the lodge quickly made their exit... all two of them. Much of the remainder followed if for no reason that they valued their lives. Caitlyn wasn't sure what it said about her that she remained. She blamed it on her investigator's curiosity.

Yeah, that was it.

At least Riven hadn't barricaded herself in the bathroom. It gave Caitlyn room to maneuver if what she anticipated was true. Because she did not expect Riven to proceed with either grace or aplomb.

"I am a proud soldier! I am battle incarnate! I will not stand for this!"

Caitlyn finally reached the entry separating her from the room that Riven was seething in. Her first peek confirmed that this was going to end badly. Another longer, appraising look asserted that this would not only end badly, but that it had the potential to take half of the Halls with it.

Riven spun at the sense she was being watched, an accusing stare leveled until it softened when she identified the Sheriff of Piltover. "Caitlyn, look at this! Look at what Laitwell expects me to parade myself in! I thought his cheerleader idea was bad. This is _worse_!"

That went without saying. Poor Riven... a skintight leotard with partially sheer black stockings, pink high heels, shoulders and cleavage bare with a completely unnecessary unattached collar and necktie, the crotch covered in the most minimal of definitions. And that wasn't even the most degrading accessory. On Riven head was crowned two, slightly crooked, fuzzy bunny ears.

Caitlyn didn't want to follow up, but she knew she had to. Her investigator's curiosity demand she confirm what she already knew to be truth. "Do I dare ask about your tail?"

Riven spun back around, revealing the sick reality. Fastened to the strap of her carrot shaped waist pack, right above her posterior, was a fluffy white cottontail.

Caitlyn slapped her palm over her face in dismay. "Oh, Riven... I am... _so so _sorry."

The biggest problem was that the outfit actually looked _good _on Riven. _Very _good. Unlike the atrocity that had been Vayne's valentine attire, summoners were going to _want _to see Riven in this costume. They were going to want to see Riven in it _often_.

"If it's any consolation... you... wear it well?" Caitlyn offered nervously.

Finally, the exile snapped, grabbing her rune sword and literally cleaving the mirror she had been looking at herself through in twain, from top to bottom, cleaving so neatly and swiftly that the normally fragile reflective glass didn't even shatter.

Unsatisfied with that result, Riven screamed in fury, punching both sides so hard that the mirror finally shattered and flew several feet into the fair wall.

"Damnable hells!" She screeched, throwing her rune sword towards Caitlyn, forcing the sheriff to duck swiftly as it zipped over her head and imbedded itself into the door frame. "Look what that perverted bastard did to my sword!"

Caitlyn cautiously approached the weapon, stopping only when she could see what the exile was speaking of. At first, the Sheriff of Piltover didn't understand. The glow had changed to a pale orange, and the hilt had been recolored to green... and the guard had a leafy appearance...

A carrot. Laitwell had Riven's rune sword altered to look like a damned carrot.

"Oh dear..." Caitlyn groaned. "That's... not right. That's not right at all..."

Riven stomped towards Caitlyn, more to retrieve her sword than anything else. But once she was there, she figured that she would take the opportunity to state her purpose in a quiet, menacing voice. "Laitwell... must... die."

The pair was interrupted by the sound of another's approach. Caitlyn stuck her head back through the entry to see Vayne taking very deliberate strides towards the commotion. This scenario was only going to get worse before it gets better.

"I heard the freak show summoner was here." The night hunter said calmly as she greeted Caitlyn with a nod. "I take it he finally composed his latest masterpiece for Riven?"

The sheriff sighed forlornly. There really was no point trying to hide it. Caitlyn stepped aside, and gestured through the entryway, where Riven had taken a defiant posture... as intimidating as one could be while wearing bunny ears, at any rate.

Vayne took Caitlyn's position, and for a long, awkward moment, stood unmoving save for her glasses sliding halfway down her nose. The two women locked eyes, almost as if they were having a silent battle of wills, until Vayne did something that startled Caitlyn for being so strikingly out of character for the stoic Night Hunter.

Vayne put her arms around Riven, and pulled her into a warm, sympathetic hug, nestling the exile's eyes against her right shoulder, soothing Riven like one would soothe a traumatized child. "There, there. Cry it out. It's okay."

Caitlyn was further surprised when Riven did just that, breaking out into heart-wrenching sobs, her shaking so intense both her and Vayne were trembling. "Why... why did he do this me?" Riven wailed, partially muffled by Vayne's shoulder. "What did I do to deserve this? Why does he hate us so?"

Vayne finally pushed Riven away to arms length, keeping a firm grip on his exile's shoulders. The Night Hunter's next words were given with such a grim, even voice that it was almost as if she was discussing the weather. "Laitwell will suffer for this. You and I, we will hurt him. We will eviscerate his body and his soul. We will take everything that matters in his life, and shatter them like glass. We will break his life, piece by piece, right before his eyes, until there is nothing left of that vile man but a soulless, empty husk. Then, and only then, when that shell that was once a man begs us to put him out of our misery, will we allow him to escape through death."

Giving Riven a firm shake to make sure that their eyes met once more, to demonstrate that Vayne was deadly serious as to this threat, the Night Hunter finished, "Laitwell will _die _before we kill him."

Finally, the sorrow and the anger vanished from Riven's face, replaced with the cold, calculating lady of war that the League of Legends knew so well. "Have I ever told you how well you would fit in my vision of Noxus?" The exile asked rhetorically. "I trust you know of a place to start?"

Vayne then slowly turned her head towards Caitlyn. "I know that Laitwell is of Piltover. And we happen to know someone who would know _exactly _where he would be if he's not here on the grounds."

Caitlyn held up her hands in warning. "As much as I would love to see Grand Summoner Laitwell get what's coming to him, I am a woman of the law. You'll be lucky if I decide to conveniently look the other way as your murder of vengeance takes place."

"Really?" Vayne said with a knowing grin. "Have you been made aware that your summoner for the next match wants you to wear your police officer outfit? As I recall from the formal request, he requested that the skirt be..." The Night Hunter's next words were delivered slowly and with sharp enunciation. "Extra... short... exposing just the slightest sliver of cheek. And I'm not talking about your pretty face."

The color drained from Caitlyn. She hadn't looked over the request all that carefully, but she did know the summoner in question, a particularly rotund man from Piltover that had made very little qualms about letting his infatuation for the sheriff be known to anyone that would listen. But that scenario would have required an allowance from Laitwell to alter the uniform... and that she could remember Laitwell's signature being on the order...

"That would explain why the bastard took a sudden leave of absence. I had assumed that he had left because of Riven, but now... yes, Laitwell must die." Caitlyn finally agreed. "However, I suspect he did not retreat to Piltover, especially with what we all know. He'll be looking to avoid me at any and all costs."

"Then how do we find him?" Riven asked. She wasn't much of an investigator, not like Vayne and Caitlyn. Riven more preferred to be pointed in a direction and told to start swinging.

"We start with his apprentice." Caitlyn said. "At the very least, we should be able to coerce him into letting us into Laitwell's office to investigate further." The Sheriff of Piltover reached into one of her belt packs, pulling out a battered, oft used notepad.

"His name is..." She began, staring to read from her notes.

"Kato." Vayne finished, leaning back against the door frame, her closed eyes barely visible behind her tinted glasses. "Hails from Ionia, an orphan of the Noxus invasion. Been an apprentice summoner for seven years, assessed as having minimal talent, likely assigned to Laitwell so that the _real _summoners can focus on more promising apprentices."

"Thank you... Vayne." Caitlyn groused, bitterly jealous of the Night Hunter's again demonstrated nigh photographic memory. "He was in the apprentice's dormitories, but was since moved..."

"To a summoner owned villa community just outside the fields of justice. Homestead 12-A on Silean Parkway."

"Okay, there is _no _way you just memorized that by pure chance it might be useful down the road." Caitlyn protested.

Vayne finally popped open one eye that she leveled on Caitlyn. "The Night Hunter is _always _prepared for _any _contingency. But in this case, yes, I had been planning this endeavor for some time. Staking out Laitwell's apprentice was useful information to that goal."

* * *

Apprentice Summoner Kato apparently was rather used to women threatening him about his mentor.

It was the only reason Caitlyn could think of that would explain his complete lack of shock or protest as she and her accomplices literally hacked through the door to his villa and located him in the kitchen, Vayne grabbing him by the collar, and his equal lack of concern as Riven's... carrot sword... settled underneath his throat.

"I take it you are here to find Grand Summoner Laitwell." Kato said with unnerving calmness, as if he had just invited the three ladies for a spot of tea.

"Yes. Where is the bastard hiding?" Riven snarled, her movements bopping Kato in the face with her bunny ears.

"I see he finally finished the Battle Bunny Riven costume." Kato droned, "No wonder he's hiding." He addressed Caitlyn, and asked, "And I take it you got your altered officer costume already?"

"No." Caitlyn denied, her voice drifting dark, "But I learned of it."

Kato sighed, "I tell you what I told her..."

Riven's eyes narrowed, and she demanded, "Told who?"

"Told me." A heavy Demacian noblewoman accent said, drifting to their ears from the parlor.

From the living room, the duelist Fiora emerged into the kitchen, hands on her hips. "Had I known you were planning to act on Laitwell yourselves, I would have waited for you."

"Lady Fiora learned of Laitwell's 'Blade Dancer' design, and was not unsurprisingly displeased by the concept art." Kato explained.

"I am the premier duelist of Demacia..." Fiora seethed, her right hand clenched into a shaking fist. "Not a tawdry tavern wench! For this insult, I will stain my blade with the wretch's blood!"

"As I had been starting to explain to the lady here before you three barged in, when Laitwell is on the run, it's not as simple as just telling where his secret hiding place is." Kato continued. The kettle on his stove whistled, and he asked, "May I?"

Riven reluctantly lowered her sword, allowing Kato to attend to his tea. "If you ladies would like to have a seat in the parlor, I may as well brief you all at once."

Without further statement, he took the kettle off the stove, retrieved three more cups, and gestured for the women to enter the parlor. Shortly after they took their seats, Kato followed, bearing a tray of freshly brewed tea.

"When Laitwell doesn't want to be found, he doesn't have one particular hideout." Kato informed, setting the cups out for the ladies at the table. "He leaves me a list of several locations, as well as corresponding dates and times."

"Then give us this list!" Riven demanded. "And let us do the rest!"

"And if it was even _that _simple, Laitwell would already be a bloody smear across some lonely stretch of road." Kato retorted. "The list he gives me is only where I am to send any communication if urgent business requires his attention. It is highly doubtful he is at any of those locations personally. Sivir and Ashe some time ago tried staking out one of those places, and had nothing to show for it. The letter was never opened, yet Laitwell somehow got the information."

"I wish I could be of more help." The apprentice grumbled. "Although I can't say I'm eager to see him dead. The old bat has his uses."

"Like a convenient hiding place for an apprentice summoner to not draw attention to himself." Vayne said with a knowing smile.

"His death would be an inconvenience, but hardly something worth fighting for. The wastrel deserves whatever he has coming to him, I assure you. Runes witness, if you knew _half _of what he cooked in his skull..." Kato replied coldly. He retreated to his study, and returned with a rolled sheet of parchment. "Here is his list for this current month. May you have more luck than those who came before you."

Caitlyn took the parchment, and stood. "You have been most cooperative, Mister Kato. Thank you. Ladies, let us not waste the man's time any further."

As the four made their leave, Kato said, "Miss Vayne?" Then, as if startled the the Night Hunter acknowledged his existence, colored brightly and said, "Uh... it's nothing. Good luck."

Vayne's eyes narrowed, but spared no further thought to what was clearly not important. Caitlyn however, seemed to think otherwise. "Vayne, you lucky scamp."

"What?" The Night Hunter glowered, her words more statement than question.

"I'm just saying... that young man is fuzzy cuffs material."

Vayne rolled her eyes distastefully, "You can be so crude."

"Less talky, more thinky." Riven chided, her hands snatching the list they had been given, and examining it's contents carefully. Somehow, someway, vengeance would come to the door of Grand Summoner Laitwell... and it would be sporting bunny ears and a cottontail. He would see his greatest mistake before the end, Riven swore it.


	3. Laitwell Must Die

**LAITWELL MUST DIE**

The dining hall of the Institute of War was often considered to be more than just a place to eat. It was also a spacious, well designed, and relaxing atmosphere, with broad windows across three walls that allowed for a lovely panorama of both the surrounding city-state as well as the natural beauty beyond. Unfortunately for one little list sitting on the table in front of Caitlyn, her coffee had gone cold and relaxation was the last thing on her mind.

The list had been Caitlyn's bane for the last two months. Grand Summoner Laitwell was still in hiding, and the distressingly large number of options that he had to squirrel himself away had not dwindled down much at all.

All of the locations for messages to be sent were in heavily populated areas of major city-states. Even with an increasing number of volunteers, there were simply too many places Laitwell could be, especially if he was constantly on the move like the list implied he was.

The ladies of the League needed a trump card... they needed a way to get a message to Laitwell, something to either lure him or his carrier out of hiding. But the only people who had any reason to send him a message was the League itself, and Caitlyn doubted they'd assist in efforts to rat out one of their own.

There was also Kato, Laitwell's apprentice, but Caitlyn had gotten the gist that it would be at least a significant inconvenience to the younger man if something were to happen to his mentor... and so she doubted that he'd cooperate much further than he already has.

She felt herself being watched, confirmed moments later when a human figure appeared out of the corner of her eye, and lowered herself smoothly into a chair on the other side of the table. "No luck from the last location." Vayne said with a hint of annoyance. "I couldn't even get any nibbles through the underground. If _I _can't find someone hiding in Demacia, _no one _is going to find him."

Caitlyn grinned. Why didn't she think of this before?

The Night Hunter quickly caught the Sheriff of Piltover's expression, and wasn't sure she liked it. "What are you scheming, woman?" Vayne said in warning.

"I need your help." Caitlyn said, the maniacal grin refusing to fade.

Vayne wasn't sure what Caitlyn was going to ask, but a hundred red flags were already popping up in her brain. "No." The Night Hunter said simply.

"Come on! I have the _perfect_ plan!" Caitlyn replied, pleading. "Kato is absolutely _smitten _with you. I bet you could be very convincing if you put your mind, and perhaps your body, to it. With his help, we could send Laitwell a letter directly and lure him out of whatever hole he's hiding in."

"No chance in the void."

"Come on, Vayne... you can use that Dragonslayer set of yours. Quite fetching... looks good on you... Kato would be putty in your hands."

"It's bad enough a handful of summoners remember that outfit exists at all." Vayne replied, adamant in her refusal. "I am not going to subject myself to it willingly."

"Not even if it draws Laitwell into the open? Are you really _that _much of a prude?"

Vayne's glasses dropped slightly, and amber eyes grew dark. Her voice was a low, sinister growl as she said threateningly, "I have taken immense pride in the fact that my every accomplishment has been done through my wits, guile, and skill. I have never once had to use my feminine charms to complete any task set before me, and I am _not _going to start now. Am I clear?"

Vayne was normally an even-tempered individual... so the harsh intensity from the Night Hunter startled Caitlyn. "I... I see." the sheriff said timidly. "I... very well. I can see this is very... important to you. I apologize for... suggesting it."

Any response Vayne might have made to the apology was lost as a deafening boom and window shattering tremor ripped through the Institute of War.

* * *

An attack on the Institute of War and the Fields of Justice was unheard of. The most powerful arcanists the world had ever known had made the Institute and its surrounding areas their home, and the idea that any agency outside of the greatest horrors from planes both dark and deep could successfully strike against that consolidation of power was both startling and frightening.

But the evidence was undeniable. The explosion had centered from the women's lodge, which Caitlyn and Vayne had deduced both from the direction of the shock wave as well as the blown out glass and doors and pieces of stone wall from the lodge.

Whatever had happened, it had both taken the occupants by surprise as well as overwhelmed any defenses they might have had. Medics and healers had beaten Caitlyn and Vayne to the scene by mere moments, escorting injured ladies out of the lodge that was more a mere frame than anything else.

Shyvana was a woman born of _dragons_, with a toughness and fortitude that could not be questioned. Yet even she was sporting what looked to be a broken arm, and was bleeding profusely from her forehead, despite the best efforts of the healers to stem the injury.

When questioned by the two humans, Shyvana weakly gestured to what would have been the epicenter of the wreckage, and a very cryptic reply. "Sona. Go see for yourself. It defies any words I can offer."

Vayne and Caitlyn shared a nervous look, then the sheriff took the lead into the remains of the lodge. It wasn't hard to locate Sona, as every interior wall had been nigh vaporized from what both ladies could now readily identify as a fit of psychic rage from the so-called "Maven of the Strings", and that the reason for that awe-inspiring outburst had been due to the latest handiwork of a certain Grand Summoner.

Sona was actually a bit of a favorite for Laitwell to design outfits for, but unlike many other champions, those offered to Sona had usually been quite luxurious and/or gorgeous. That was _not _the case this time.

Sona's normally striking silvery hair had been altered into a vibrant neon blue, then colored bright pink at the tips. A garish pink ball necklace hung from her neck, nestling into a barely there navy blue top that was more brassiere than anything else, linked together with a bright gold star just below Sona's admittedly ample cleavage that Caitlyn was normally quite jealous of.

Such stars also adorned her hair clips and earrings, as well as at the end of four rainbow colored tails to her full length patchwork designed skirt. That was garish and insulting enough... but as Sona turned to face her newest visitors, her face a mix of untold grief and unspeakable fury, the ladies discovered that the outfit had been the _least _of Sona's worries.

Caitlyn knew a bit of Sona's story, mostly second hand from Vayne, as obviously the Maven of the Strings didn't exactly tell anyone... well... _anything._ But the Sheriff of Piltover did know that Sona's etwahl, the instrument that Sona used to both move hearts and rip apart bodies, was Sona's most treasured possession, literally at the mute woman's side for as long as anyone can remember. Sona and her etwahl were rarely apart for more than a handful of minutes at a time, and even then with immense reluctance.

Grand Summoner Laitwell had taken that most precious possession and warped into something alien, twisted it almost completely beyond recognition, bearing only a vague resemblance to the shape the instrument normally was. It was to put it most simply, an abortion.

This time, Laitwell had crossed any line that could possibly be crossed. Sona was one of the most genuinely pleasant people in all of Runeterra, much less the League of Legends. She was someone every woman in the League could talk to and feel like she was listening, and not because Sona didn't talk back. To see the raw pain in Sona's eyes wrenched Caitlyn's sensibilities more than any affront the Grand Summoner had done to the Sheriff of Piltover directly.

And apparently Vayne felt the same way. The stoic Night Hunter was unmoving for nearly a minute before wordlessly spinning on one heel, and taking a direct line towards the surprisingly mostly intact wardrobe on the farthest east wall of what remained of the women's lodge. "Vayne... what are you doing?" Caitlyn wondered.

The sheriff was answered when Vayne pulled out the blue leather and scale dragonslayer outfit of hers. "I am going to go change." The Night Hunter said simply, leaving the lodge once she had completely secured the desired items.

* * *

Truth be told, Vayne honestly didn't mind her Dragonslayer outfit all that much. Yes, the top was unnecessarily revealing, but even the all business Night Hunter secretly didn't mind trussing up in something a little sexy now and then. And she had to admit that the rest of the outfit carried a very vicious theme; powerful and intimidating, especially the helmet that had supposedly been literally crafted from a whelp's skull.

Vayne had left the helmet behind for this mission, though. She wanted her quarry to see her face. Quickly grabbing the sides of her top and fluffing her chest to make sure she had the desired line of cleavage, Vayne addressed the door in front of her with a sharp triple tap of the knuckles of her right hand.

"It's open. You may enter." Came Kato's voice from the other side.

She took the invitation to enter, momentarily coming to a stop just inside the door before quietly pulling it closed behind her. For a summoner apprentice, Kato had a surprisingly spacious office, although to be fair much of it also had served as chambers until he had moved to his current home. Where the bed had been was now three shelves stuffed with books... not exactly the light reading expected of an apprentice the Institute had given up on.

There was obviously more to the association between Laitwell, Kato, and the Institute, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Kato quite remarkably had kept his composure after the initial jolt of seeing Vayne at his door. "Miss Vayne? What can I do for you?"

His demeanor again wavered for a longer period when Vayne dropped herself into his lap, throwing her arms loosely around his neck. That action was then followed by a very awkward silence as Vayne tried to decide exactly what she was supposed to do next while Kato failed very hard to not notice that her chest was right at eye level and inches away.

Finally, he broke the silence, forcing his head up towards Vayne's and asking flatly, "Okay. What bet did you lose?"

"I'm supposed to be seducing you in order to get you to write a message for your mentor that my colleagues and I can trace." Vayne said bluntly. "I'm... not very good at it."

Kato forced himself to keep his eyes up. "Well, what you lack in experience you make up for in... pure... talent."

Vayne's lips twitched a hint upward in amusement. "Did you see what your master did to Sona?"

Kato nodded, "Saw it. And heard it. And... felt it." He released a very slow sigh. "Sona was rather traumatized, wasn't she? I knew that old coot was going to go too far one of these days. Are you _sure _you want to corner him?"

Vayne nodded. "We're not going to really kill him, I'm sure. Just make him hurt a little."

The apprentice nodded. "Alright. I'll do it." After a moment's pause, and finally allowing himself a good long look straight ahead, he added, "And as much as I really shouldn't complain about my current situation, I'd rather need you to vacate my lap in order to do it."

Vayne flushed brightly, decidedly not Vayne-like behavior. In the discussion, she had forgotten she had been in a very suggestive position. Sliding off the target of her task, she took several strides back and tried to hide her discomfort behind a polite cough. "I will not delay you farther then. Inform either Caitlyn, Fiona, Riven, or I when the message is ready."

Kato requested solemly, "Be careful. Laitwell is a Grand Summoner for a _reason_, and it's _not _because he's a skilled clothier. I know he likes to act like his off his rocker, and maybe he is a little, but he's still a very dangerous arcanist that you should _not _take lightly."

"I won't." Vayne promised.

The apprentice turned about, made sure his pen had a good flow of ink, then got right to work as Vayne slid out and closed the door again. She stopped at the doorway, looked down the hall, and said in irritation, "Nothing scandalous happened."

A small legion of groans followed, and no fewer than ten fellow champions retreated from the scene, save Caitlyn who emerged from the adjoining hall jingling a small purse filled with coin. "Easiest money I've ever made." She said. "They were all sure Apprentice Kato would try to feel you up a little at the very least."

Vayne's eyes narrowed in silent warning. She suspected she should be insulted by the entire bet, but simply couldn't work up the ire. It wasn't worth it. "Regardless, my task is complete. We should probably get ready to be there when the message arrives."


	4. Closing the Trap

**CLOSING THE TRAP**

Caitlyn, despite all her credentials, was not particularly one for stakeouts. She did not like staying in one place for terribly long; as every moment spent standing still was a moment where something was happening somewhere else.

In this case it was watching, and waiting, for Grand Summoner Laitwell to take the bait, and Caitlyn was not liking the odds.

"Damn it, he's not coming." Caitlyn spat. "I don't know how, but he knows this is a trap. He's not going to fall for it."

Shauna Vayne, on the other hand, was trained _precisely _for this sort of thing. Her entire modus operandi was based on biding her time, waiting for the right opportunity. Stalking her quarry for hours, if not _days_, was commonplace.

"It's been _twenty minutes_." Vayne replied with an annoyed growl. "And we have no idea when he or his messenger normally arrive to retrieve their mail."

The Sheriff of Piltover settled back into her seat with a sigh, taking a long sip of her tea. "Are you sure it's a good idea to be out in the open like this? Laitwell or his crony could see us a mile away."

Caitlyn was referring to the fact that the two of them were watching the delivery point from a table at a cafe across a cobblestone street of Bandle City, near entirely unobstructed from view. Anyone could have looked to the side from the delivery point and seen them. Vayne had to admit the hideout was clever... the vast majority of those who would seek him harm would rather stand out in the city of yordles.

"It's not like we could slink around here anyway." Vayne replied. "Besides, people with something to hide are always wary of the dark, hidden places. It's the obvious and in plain sight that they tend to overlook."

The sheriff was not particularly convinced. "I hope you're right."

"We'll find out eventually." The Night Hunter said cryptically. Truth be told, she had her doubts as well. Something _didn't _feel right about this. No matter how good at hiding Grand Summoner Laitwell was, he would stand out in Bandle City just as much as Vayne and Caitlyn would. If Laitwell was (or had been) here, someone would have known about it.

Caitlyn dropped her chin into her hands on the table, making no attempt to hide the fact she was bored out of her skull. "Where are the others anyway? I shouldn't be the only one who has to suffer."

"Riven was called to the arena this morning." Vayne reminded the sheriff crossly. "The match is likely underway at this point. Fiora... got her parcel from Laitwell, and is protesting to the League."

Caitlyn cringed. "Did she even bother to look at it?"

"Does she need to?"

Caitlyn pointed lazily at the Night Hunter. "Point made." She took another sip of tea, and examined the cup distastefully. "No chance I could get a dash of rum in this, is there?"

"No."

Caitlyn sighed. "No booze... no sex... no fun. No wonder you're so uptight and frigid."

Vayne started to entertain the thought of creating an imprint of Caitlyn's face on the tabletop. "If you're trying to annoy me into letting you out of this stakeout, you're failing miserably."

A tortured moan escaped the sheriff's lips. "Damn it."

But Caitlyn's misery would quickly come to an end, in the form of their server, a plump fully furred yordle woman with a white apron. But where the order pad would have normally been in her hand was instead a plain white envelope, which she offered promptly to the ladies at the table.

"I was told to give this to you two at specifically this time." The server said with a frown. "I don't know who made the suggestion. I don't know why. Please don't ask."

Vayne took said letter, a very practiced penmanship forming hers and Caitlyn's names. The Night Hunter suspected it's contents before even breaking the seal... and her suspicions were not particularly far off.

**_I am SO enjoying this game. Aren't you? _**

**_ ~ L_**

Caitlyn had peered over Vayne's shoulder, reading the contents herself. Her fists clenched, and she snarled, "That... bastard. He _knew _it was a set up!"

Vayne tapped the envelope against the table, lips pursed in thought. "Obviously. Now the question is how."

"Does he have assistance in mail delivery perhaps?" Caitlyn suggested.

Vayne stood, and left suitable money for the bill and tip. "We will find out shortly."

* * *

With all pretenses laid bare, Vayne and Caitlyn made no effort to hide their intent, swiftly crossing the road and violating mail code by swiftly breaking into Laitwell's box. Examining the envelope that contained Kato's missive carefully, the Night Hunter then held the letter at arms length with her left hand while cutting it open with a small knife in her right hand.

Vayne then tipped the envelope forward, as a fine blue powder spilled out, turning to liquid upon contact with the air, and staining the ground it touched that same shade.

"Had the letter been tampered with, that wouldn't have happened." Vayne said flatly. "The entire contents of the envelope would be dyed blue."

Caitlyn tapped her chin with a finger, scowling. "Then how did he blasted know? You don't think Kato tipped him off?"

Vayne shook her head. "I doubt that."

The Sheriff of Piltover was amused at the certainty in which the Night Hunter spoke, cocking a teasing eyebrow towards Vayne.

Her quarry instantly got defensive, Vayne crossing her arms defiantly at Caitlyn's gaze. "I just know."

"Mmm hmm." Caitlyn hummed disbelievingly. Vayne rarely got so transparently coy. "And how do you 'know' pray tell?"

Vayne muttered something rushed and incoherent under her breath. "I'm sorry, dear, what was that?" Caitlyn asked, cupping a hand over her ear teasingly.

Reluctantly raising her voice, the Night Hunter repeated, "I may have promised him dinner if he fulfilled his task to my satisfaction." Scowling and fighting back the blush on her cheeks, she insisted, "It was merely added... incentive. Nothing more!"

Caitlyn began grinning mischievously. "Incentive for _who_, I wonder..."

Vayne reached for any topic she could change the line of conversation to, and found an easy one right in her hand. "Focus." The Night Hunter chided, slapping Caitlyn in the chest with the open envelope in her hand. "If he wasn't tipped off by the mail... or by his apprentice... how did he know where we would be and when we would be there?"

"Could he have been watching Kato?" Caitlyn asked.

Vayne shook her head. "No... he'd need Clairvoyance to do that, and the only place you can gain access to a scrying plate is..."

The Night Hunter slapped her head in dismay. The answer had been so obvious that Vayne, Caitlyn and everyone else who had ever tried to hunt the Grand Summoner down had never even thought of it.

"I know where the bastard is." She snarled. "Quickly, we need to get back to the Institute..."

* * *

Fiora greeted the pair upon their return to the Institute of War, intercepting them at the main courtyard outside the women's lodge, and most displeased about her newest "costume."

"This... is humiliating." The duelist growled, tapping her meter stick on the ground in displeasure.

Yes. Her meter stick. Fiora's blade had been replaced with the implement, most assuredly enchanted to mimic the effect of her rapier in combat, but nonetheless extremely out of place, except that it fit the rest of the costume.

A distressingly short business suit and skirt, thigh high garters, broad rimmed glasses and black heels completed the ensemble, her black hair tied up into a bun at the back of her head. Vayne recognized the look easily enough... a tarted up version of a Demacian school mistress.

Fiora sighed. "At least it's not the tavern wench idea he tried to push on me before. I suppose it could be worse."

Graves drifted by, spying the duelist, a lewd smirk across his cheeks as he stepped in between the trio of women. "Hey, girl... I could teach _you _a few things, if you know what I mean..."

With a distasteful sneer, Fiora struck, clapping her ruler across the back of Graves's calves with a loud thwack. The outlaw nigh instantly buckled to one knee, howling in pain. "Damnable hells!" He bellowed, then hissing in pain as he limped away.

"As I said... it _could _be worse." She grumbled.

Riven found the gathering soon after, still clad in that bunny outfit that she vowed Laitwell would see her in as she beat him to within an inch of his life. "How did it go, did you find Laitwell?" She asked hopefully.

"Yes... and no." Vayne replied. "We don't know _specifically _where he is... but we do know that he's _here_."

Fiora and Riven blinked. "You mean, here... at the Institute of War?" Fiora asked. "When did he come back?"

"That's the rub, dearies... he never _left_." Caitlyn corrected with a wag of her finger. "That's certainly what he _wants _people to think, but it is Vayne's and my suspicion that he has a secondary office and chambers hidden here in the Institute itself, complete with a scrying plate to ferret out any attempts to find him before they can even begin."

"If it's hidden... how can we find it?" Riven asked.

Vayne replied, "Simply enough, really. All scrying plates in Runeterra are registered and tagged by the Institute of War and are not permitted to be taken off Institute grounds. It would not be terribly hard to appropriate a list of said plates, and find out which one isn't accounted for in an official capacity."

A cheerful voice from behind Caitlyn and Vayne then cut in. "Oh, I do fear that would be more trouble than you think... nearly every Grand Summoner has a scrying plate tucked away in a secluded locale... you'd be combing through quite a few secret dens to find where mine is."

Laitwell was right in Fiora and Riven's line of sight, but neither of them would have been able to tell precisely when the Grand Summoner had appeared. All four ladies instantly turned to anger upon processing his existance.

"But I don't think that is necessary, do you?" The aged summoner said with a broad grin and running his fingers through his beard. "Now then, while this has been fairly enjoyable, and one where the four of you came _far _closer than anyone prior... I do believe it's due time to end this game, don't you?"

Caitlyn spat incredulously, "A _game_? You humiliate us... degrade us... mock us... and you call it a _game_?"

Abruptly, the sky went from mostly sunny to storm front dark, shocking nearly everyone who had a view of outside, a nigh hurricane gale whipped through the courtyard, billowing Laitwell's gaudy, patchwork robes and sending his beard flapping... highlighting the intimidating white hot glow that had replaced his eyes. The smile was gone, replaced by a cold annoyance that one would regard a mere insect pest.

"You best feel _fortunate _I considered this a game, young lady!" Laitwell bellowed with authority, his voice echoing with a deep, sinister reverb. A deafening crack of thunder accentuated the sentence. "Had I been _serious_, I would have acted _much _more decisively and aggressively!"

As quickly as the storm stirred, it broke, leaving no sign the skies had been the least bit turbulent. The broad, jovial grin was back on Grand Summoner Laitwell's face as well, discombobulating the four women as much as the display of overwhelming power.

"But again... I see no need for such a reaction, don't you agree?" Laitwell said with a slight tilt of his head to the left.

Kato had not been kidding, Vayne decided... if anything the apprentice had _understated _his master; which raised another bevy of questions for the Night Hunter's curiosity. An apprentice that the Institute had clearly _not _given up on despite all appearances, under the tutelage of a master who was clearly _not _a mere clothier. Obviously, something was being hidden... and Vayne was not fond of the powerful who kept secrets.

"Hmm... seems my little display has gotten some attention." Laitwell declared, as indeed a small mob of people had started to stick their heads out of doors and windows or turned around to find out what had just happened. "I suppose it would be prudent to continue this discussion in more private environs, no?"

It's not like any of the four women were going to refuse a man who could drop a tornado on their heads with a snap of his fingers. Nonetheless, their pace behind the Grand Summoner was nervous one as it led to the towers of the Central Keep of the Fields of Justice.


	5. An End to the Beginning

**AN END TO THE BEGINNING**

All four women knew this place. It was scarred into their memories, more diabolical than any torture chamber, more grim than any dungeon. It was where dreams went to die, and where terror reigned in a heart of madness.

Grand Summoner Laitwell dropped uncerimoniously into his chair, kicking his feet up onto his desk, quite cross at the ladies hovering at the door. "If you do not come inside this instant, the four of you will fight your next match _naked_." Grumbling sourly, he added, "Runes know _that _would earn the Institute a small fortune."

Vayne took the lead, Riven following, with Fiora and Caitlyn taking up the rear. "Close the door behind you, Sheriff, then sit down." Laitwell ordered, any happy or amused pretenses gone from his voice and body language.

The women felt like children again, and even if any of them had possessed a charmed youth that would not have been a pleasant feeling, especially since Laitwell was doing a splendid impersonation of a father just a shade below furious.

"So... I understand the four of you have issues with your alternative dress?" He said, even as his tone of voice did not suggest that was actually a question. "Enough of an issue that you accosted my apprentice... then tried to _seduce _him... in order to get to me? That you have threatened grievous bodily harm and mental anguish on my person, including but not limited to psychological torture and _death_?" He dropped his feet from the table, replaced them with his elbows as he folded his hands in front of his lips. "Now, I am aware that it's been some time since I've traveled the world at large... so has this become acceptable behavior among grown women in this civilization?"

Riven rose a hand and said, "Well, in Noxus it rather..."

"_Does this look like Noxus to you?_" Laitwell bellowed, startling the exile and nearly causing her to fall back In her chair. "Rest assured, woman, that I am _well _versed in what is deemed proper decorum and conduct within the city-state of your birth, and it is _not _antics that will be tolerated on these grounds. I am entirely certain that was regulation you were advised of the moment you were accepted as a champion, was it not?"

Fiora's pride demanded her to defend herself. "Perhaps if you didn't seek to demean us with your tawdry outfits, it wouldn't have come to this. Had you kept your perversions to yourself, you lecher, you would not find yourself the target of these constant threats."

Laitwell's eyes bulged in a mix of surprise and anger, and it was every inch of willpower from the four ladies that prevented them from trying to crawl up the walls in fright. Vayne had spent years honing her discipline to not be deterred by the metaphysical auras that arcanists could project, and even that onerus mental regimen was tested to its limit. She had no idea how the other three weren't crying like toddlers.

"Hmm." The Grand Summoner huffed, his inflection mocking. "So... you think all these designs were _my _idea. You think I wake in the morning and think, 'Yes, I do believe I shall force Riven into a leotard. That will excite my loins that haven't felt the touch of a woman in _two decades_.' You think it is _my _idea to dress you, Miss Laurent, in the garb of schoolmarms that I had come to _despise_ through my younger days. You believe that _all _the concepts for _every _outfit that has come across this desk and into your wardrobes was of _my _twisted and wreched mind?"

Several seconds of nervous silence was followed by another enraged yell. "_Answer me_!"

Caitlyn looked like she was about to disappear into the back of her chair before she squeaked, "Yes?"

Of all the things any of them would have expected to dispel the tension, _that _sort of simple honesty was _not _on the list. Nonetheless, the heavy weight in the room eased, the surroundings seemed a touch brighter, and the contortion of anger on Grand Summoner Laitwell's face was now morose. He slumped back into his chair, as if his mind and body were spent. "None of you have _any _idea how this entire process works, do you?" With a flick of his wrist, a small scroll zipped from a cabinet on the west wall, and into the arcanist's hand.

Caitlyn, Riven, and Fiora all expectantly looked at Vayne, as she had been the only one to not speak up until that point. The Night Hunter, however, saw no need to accommodate them.

Laitwell seemed to appreciate that silence. "Miss Vayne has been the only smart one here so far. Don't encourage her to join your party. Although, I do wish to let it be known, that Heartseeker outfit was from my dear apprentice's hand. He specifically requested to design it."

Any lingering fear Caitlyn might have had was banished at the opportunity to prod the Night Hunter. "Oh, did he now?"

"He did." Laitwell answered. "Outright declared he was going to make something so atrocious that _no_ summoner was going to pay a tarnished piece to see her in it."

Caitlyn broke into as broad of a grin as Vayne's mouth twisted into a warning scowl. "Awww... that's so sweet..." the Sheriff of Piltover crooned, before her mind caught up to the rest of Laitwell's revelation. "Wait. Did you say summoner's _pay _to see Vayne in that eyesore?"

"Not just that outfit." Laitwell explained. "_All _of them." The fatigue in Laitwell's face slowly shaped into a knowing expression. "Riddle me this, ladies; how do you think the Institute supports itself financially?"

Riven spoke again. "Through tithes from the city-states?"

Laitwell whistled, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh yes... those tithes sufficently cover about fifteen percent of the Institute of War's operating costs, especially when you consider nigh every city-state is able to make some excuse why they can only meet about half of their annual obligation. Bandle City is about the only one that comes close to meeting what they've agreed to supplement." To Caitlyn, he added slyly, "Yes, my dear Sheriff, those sneaky yordles are the only people that mostly live up to their part of the bargain."

Laitwell waved off any potential spirited discussion about the true nature of the various city-states in Runeterra with the hand that was holding the scroll he had retrieved. "At any rate, the Insitute would be working under a heavy loss without other means of supplemental income."

Vayne finally spoke. "Which is where the costumes come in."

"Quite right." Laitwell confirmed, unrolling the scroll, and sliding it across his desk to the Night Hunter. "Summoners pay a handsome sum to see their favorite champions trussed up in whatever dress suits their fancy. It is by _far _the most lucrative source of income for the Institute. I dare say it is nigh the sole reason the Insititue is a solvent, independent entity."

Vayne looked over the ledger silently, impassively handing it over to her right to Riven. The Noxian Exile did not keep the Night Hunter's composure. Riven's eyes widened in shock and she whispered in awe, "That is a lot of money..."

Fiora scoffed. "Oh please, I am a noblewoman of Demacia. Whatever pittance may have impressed my associate here..." The Grand Duelist stopped short when Riven shoved the ledger in front of her and pointed at the number in question before. "That... is a lot of money." Fiora finally concurred.

The Grand Summoner then actually sounded apologetic "If it seems that I pick on you ladies particularly, it is because... well... let's be perfectly honest, you girls _sell_. Next to no one wants to see Sion in thong panties." The slight shudder that twitched Laitwell's frame filtered through the other four like a cold wind. "But tell summoners that they can see Riven in a skintight suit, garters, and bunny ears, and watch them wrap around the arena begging us to take their money."

Caitlyn sneered bitterly, "Or tell them they can stare at my partially uncovered backside..."

Laitwell sighed, "Summoner Rali gave us three hundred thousand gold to cut your officer's skirt a half inch. That was the easiest money the Institute made in its short history. Even if I had _wanted _to refuse, there was no chance in the blackened pits the High Council of Equity would have turned it down."

"Note to self. Kill Summoner Rali."

Laitwell cringed. "I'd rather you didn't. He might as well be funding the renovations to the Twisted Treeline himself."

Vayne slouched, her lips tight and flat as she spoke, "So that is that, is it? We make the Institute money, and thus keeps it an independent entity outside of the influences of the city-states." She shrugged against the back of the chair. "Seems like a decent enough trade to me."

"Yes, seems almost too simple, really." Fiora said, her voice laced with suspicion. "When so much of the ire could be dispelled with a mere conversation such as this, why would you stay silent?"

The Grand Summoner blushed, "Honestly? Designing clothes bores me out of my skull. At times, I wish that I hadn't mentioned I had been a tailoring novice before my arcane talents were discovered and cultivated. Occasional hunts, such as the one you all had mustered, are a welcome break from the tedium."

"Yes, I can only imagine you are used to much grander things." Vayne said with a knowing smirk. Suspicions had been circling her mind for some time, ever since Kato's vague warning about Laitwell's abilities, and that clouded image that she had been given was starting to come into focus.

The questioning, displeased gaze the Grand Summoner leveled at her was subtle confirmation of said suspicions, especially when he said, "I am not one to let meetings dwell long, so I hope I do not come across as boorish by asking you ladies to leave. There is some business I have with Miss Vayne I should attend to, and now is as good of a time as any to settle it."

The three other women nervously regarded the Night Hunter, worried as to the sort of "business" the Grand Summoner might have had for her. Vayne dismissed their concerns with a flip of her hand, not once breaking Laitwell's eye contact. It was only once the trio had left that either Vayne or Laitwell spoke again.

"Why do I get the feeling you knew most, if not all, of this before you incited this endeavor?" Laitwell said.

Vayne's smirk broadened, "I wasn't aware of the details, but I had a fairly good idea of how the Institute funds itself. Truth is, I started this hunt because I needed a meeting just like this one, and you, Grand Summoner, are a _very _difficult man to pin down."

"Well, now you've pinned me down. What is it that you absolutely _have _to discuss with me?"

Vayne reached into her left belt pouch, and received a battered scrap of paper, handing it over to Laitwell. "How familiar are you with the Black Rose?"

"Painfully." Laitwell drawled, his eyes scanning over the contents of the scrap. "Hmm. Interesting. How did you come across this?"

"I had been watching LeBlanc and her little secret society for some time." Vayne replied, "Got very interested once your apprentice's name started showing up in their meeting minutes. Any idea why that would be?"

"Yes." Laitwell answered, his tone of voice becoming cross. "And none that I would be willing to share with you." He leaned forward. "In fact, I will make this as plain as I make anything. I would advise you stay as far away from my apprentice and anything he is involved in as you possibly can."

Before Vayne could even respond however, the Grand Summoner sullenly slumped back into his chair. "Not that you'll listen. Kato is already outside waiting for you, and he will have an offer that you will not be able to refuse. But at least now, my feelings on the matter will be a matter of record."

"So why not tell me what you know?" Vayne asked.

Laitwell then grinned impishly. "I don't like making things simple. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

"Oh I have, Grand Summoner Lavin Laitwell..." Vayne replied, standing up. "Or can I call you Reginald Ashram?"

Laitwell's eyes narrowed angrily, and his lips tightened into a thin line, though his voice did not waver. "You can call me anything you wish. Doesn't mean I will answer."

Pleased with her small victories, as well as further pieces of the picture that she had been assembling, Vayne had decided she had gleaned all she could at the moment. "May you have a pleasant evening, Grand Summoner."

Laitwell had already turned to whatever cover business was on his desk, something for a particularly large frame, from the outline she could see through the paper. But he had one parting line for the Night Hunter, "I recommend Jara's."

Vayne's eyes furrowed in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Jara's. Wonderful little bistro on the outskirts of Haven, just north of the Institute grounds. Bit of a... refined environment, but I'm sure a woman with a noble's upbringing such as yourself could manage to not be out of place."

"Is there something I should know?" She asked, curious if the Grand Summoner was trying to tip her in a certain direction.

"Kato likes risotto. It's one of his favorite foods, and Jara's makes a splendid chicken variety." Seeing Vayne's blank expression, he added, "For the dinner you promised him, girl. Rest assured he fulfilled your task quite admirably."

Vayne's blushed vividly. "Oh! Right. I shall take that... under advisement..."

Laitwell flipped his right hand dismissively, turning back towards what he pretended was his work. Vayne fought back the color on her cheeks, and made her exit, damn near running into Caitlyn, who was waiting two steps back from the door.

"Oh, there you are!" The Sheriff chirped happily. "You've had someone waiting for you for such a long time."

"It's been ten minutes I've been here at the very most." Kato replied from behind Caitlyn, the apprentice annoyed from the looks of things. No doubt Caitlyn had been "entertaining" him during his wait. "But now, your company is no longer needed, sheriff. I thank you."

Kato took to Vayne's side, and gently escorted her down the hall, just in case Caitlyn decided not to take the hint delivered with a hammer.

"Let's not waste time." Vayne said simply, glancing over her shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed. "Your master said you had an offer for me."

"Of course he did." Kato grumbled. "I had originally thought to tell you this when you and your associates... visited my home two months ago. Mostly because the timing had been right at that moment, but you had other business, so I can't fault you for it."

"What timing?" The Night Hunter asked.

"I'd rather not discuss the matter in detail in such a public venue." He replied. "But within the next month, I'll have the opportunity to provide you with something that should interest you greatly."

_H__e will have an offer that you will not be able to refuse. _Best to find out what exactly that was, Vayne figured. "What would that be?"

"Who killed your parents, and where they can be found."

**TO BE CONTINUED?**


End file.
